


End Of A Long Day

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Backrubs, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John convinces Harold to stop work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End Of A Long Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_ragnarok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](http://talking2thesky.tumblr.com/post/130547855788/rinch-kiss-on-the-nose-d).

Harold has his elbows resting on the table, head held up on his clenched hands. He’s watching the screen unblinkingly, lines of code scrolling faster than John can follow, let alone understand. They obviously make perfect sense to Finch.

John’s taking a risk, stepping up beside him and laying his hand on Harold’s back. He might break his concentration, cause him to miss something vital. Irritable and sleep-deprived, Finch is likely to snap at him, order him away. John’s prepared for these things, so he does not expect the rapid relaxation of Harold’s shoulders under his touch, the unmistakeable lean towards him. Harold removes one of his own fists from where it has been digging into his cheek, and stabs with his index finger at a key which pauses the flow of data.

“John,” he sighs. There’s pain in his breathy request, but relief too. “My neck, if you please.”

John takes a seat next to him. He helps Harold undo his tie, open his collar. Slides his hand up to the nape of Harold’s neck, gently works on the tension there and in his upper back, until Harold’s nodding off to sleep in his grasp, the backs of his fingers lightly curled against John’s chest. Harold rolls his chair closer, one knee between John’s legs, trying to close in.

John decides he’d better get there first, to save Harold the effort, and pecks him on the bridge of his nose, just below his glasses. “Better?”

Harold murmurs affirmation, eyes fluttering closed. His fingertips shift against the front of John’s shirt, seeking skin. “Hmmm. Wanna sit on your lap.” He admits, a sure sign that he’s almost totally out of it, the edge of sleep removing all his inhibitions. John ignores the tiny twist of _want_ that produces in his gut, but once again kisses the tip of Harold’s nose, carefully unhooks his glasses from behind his ears.

“Another time, Harold,” he promises. He keeps both arms around him as he guides him out of his chair and to bed.


End file.
